Sick Days
by Ariana-tan
Summary: Austria's sick. And Prussia and Hungary are taking care of him. Together. Could Austria's day possibly get any worse? Of course it can. Un-beta'd. Possibly a crack fic. Human names often used. Minor abuse of valley-girl speech 1st chap only .
1. Sick Days

**Ack. Sorry, random plot-bunny idea that came to me after almost a year's absence from this site... I'm really sorry, you guys. This past year's just been really, really, reaaaaaaaaally stressful. As in, preparing-for-senior-year-and-then-applying-for-colleges stressful. On the up side, I've gotten into 2 of the colleges I've applied to, and the ones I haven't gotten into, just haven't told me if I've been accepted yet. I will do my absolute best to update all my stories (or most of them, anyway) at some point in the next six months. But I must warn you, I'm a senior in high school. I love writing fanfictions, but they simply cannot be my absolute, top priority at this particular moment. This summer, I will be absolutely sure to write as much as humanly possible, but until that point, I will do my best to do maybe-monthly updates. I am very sorry.**

**The idea for this story sort of came from what I was perfectly convinced had happened to me a couple of days ago (as in, Christmas Eve). Yeah, I have health problems. And it doesn't help that I am apparently a sort-of hypochondriac (I don't actually go visit doctors, but I will have myself perfectly convinced I'm coming down with various, rare, and usually fairly serious illnesses).**

Roderich had been sitting at his piano, waiting for inspiration to strike, for the past two hours. It had never taken him this long to come up with something before… He sighed and took off his glasses so he could rub his eyes – he could feel a migraine coming on, and it was only – here he squinted at his watch – 9:30. How was it still so early?... Oh, yeah, now he remembered. He had woken up at around 6 that morning because he couldn't sleep.

Roderich had woken up early that morning with a sore throat and a pounding headache. He knew he didn't have any plans that day, but he still didn't want to appear weak, as Elizabeta was supposed to be coming over, and he knew that Gilbert would probably be "visiting" at some point. He had been debating with himself on what to do about it.

Roderich arched his back – he was already so tired. He knew it was too early to take a nap or something. Wait, was that noise? He paused for a moment and listened. Suddenly, a loud crack resounded around the house, followed by an "Oy! Young Master? Austria? You here?" and a "Roderich, I know you're here somewhere".

Roderich groaned. Seriously? They both came, _together_? Of all things? He cleared his throat and called out, "I'm in the piano room," before collapsing into a slight coughing fit. He heard two sets of footsteps pound up the stairs and down the hall, into his safe haven.

Elizabeta gasped. "Roderich, are you alright?"

Roderich nodded.

Gilbert frowned. "You don't **sound** alright." He walked up to Roderich and looked at his face. "You look kinda … flushed to me."

Elizabeta followed behind Gilbert. "He's right, you know. Do you have a fever?" She reached up to feel his forehead.

Roderich pulled back slightly. "I'm fine, you guys." He silently cursed himself; his voice sounded so hoarse, he knew that they could see right through his lie.

Gilbert put one hand up to his own forehead and then rested the back of the other hand against Roderich's. He smirked. "Told you – you've got a fever."

Roderich scowled. "First of all, who said you could touch me? Second of all, please leave. And third, I am totally and completely healthy."

Elizabeta frowned. "No, you're not. If you don't stop, I'll get a thermometer and check your temperature for you."

Roderich glared at her. "Lizzie, please don't. I'm not up to an argument right now."

Elizabeta sighed. "I know, honey. Why don't you go back to bed? Gil and I will take care of you." She kissed her ex-husband on the cheek and rubbed his upper arms. "Poor baby." She turned to Gilbert. "Gil, can you please help me get him to bed?"

Gilbert nodded. He put one arm behind Roderich's back and the other under Roderich's knees. Roderich squeaked in protest. Gilbert laughed under his breath. "Relax, Roddy. I'm just gonna put you to bed." Roderich blushed. "Your face is turnin' redder by the minute." He turned his face towards Elizabeta's. "Lizzie, could you get a thermometer?"

Elizabeta nodded. "Of course. I'll be right back." She ran off to the downstairs bathroom to grab a washcloth, a thermometer, and ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet.

Roderich rested his feverish cheek on Gilbert's shoulder. Gilbert sighed and carried Roderich up the stairs and into his bedroom. He sat Roderich down on the bed, propped up against the pillows, and threw a pair of pajamas at him. When Roderich just stared at them pitifully, Gilbert sighed again. "Honestly, you're hopeless." Then he knelt down on the bed in front of Roderich and pulled his shirt off. "There. Was that so – holy shit!"

Elizabeta came into the room. "Okay, I've got the – oh, my God." There was a clatter as she dropped the thermometer, the bottle of ibuprofen, and the washcloth on the ground.

Roderich looked from one to the other in near-total confusion. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

Suddenly, Elizabeta and Gilbert looked at each other and then … burst into laughter.

Roderich started to cross his arms over his chest. "Stop laughing, and tell me what's … going … on." His speech slowed to a near-crawl as he decided to actually look down and try to figure it out on his own. For there, on his chest, his arms, and his belly, were … spots. Dozens and dozens of spots.

Roderich screamed.

**Yeah, that's right. I was convinced I was coming down with chicken pox. Even now, I'm not completely sure... I saw some spots on my stomach and my ... chest and my arms while I was taking a shower, and now I'm kind of itchy in various places. I'm really hoping that it's nothing, though.**

**Just to let you know, any symptoms he's experiencing may or may not be completely correct. I'm really not sure - I've never actually had chicken pox, and to my knowledge, no one in my family has had them, either (well, my parents did, but I can't exactly ask them).**


	2. Teasing and Chickenpox

**Told you I'd update all my stories as soon as I could. XD**

Elizabeta was able to regain her composure for a moment. "How did you manage to get through your entire childhood without ever getting chicken pox or the vaccine?"

Roderich wailed, "I don't know! I don't really remember that much. You'd have to call Vash to figure that out." He absentmindedly scratched his arm.

Gilbert swatted him on the wrist, and Roderich glared at him. "Hey, you'll thank me for that later. Scratching will just make it itch worse, and it'll leave scars."

Roderich sighed and rubbed his nose. "Fine." He rolled his shoulders back a little bit, trying to relieve a little bit of the itch that was building up on his shoulder blades.

Gilbert narrowed his eyes. "Stop that, or I'm really gonna do it."  
>Roderich whirled around. "You wouldn't dare."<p>

Gilbert smirked. "You know I will."

Elizabeta looked back and forth, from Gilbert to Roderich. "Will someone please explain to me what's going on?"

Roderich looked at Elizabeta pleadingly. "He's threatening to call Vash on me!"

Elizabeta smacked Gilbert on the back of the head. "Stop scaring Roderich!" She smiled at Roderich. "Sweetie, you really shouldn't scratch, though. Gilbert will get you some tea," here she looked pointedly at said albino nation, "and I'll stay here with you and take your temperature."

Gilbert, grumbling, walked out of the room to go make tea in the kitchen, while Elizabeta sat down on the edge of Roderich's bed. She asked Roderich to open his mouth, and she slid the thermometer in under his tongue. "Now we just have to wait," she said as cheerily as she could. She couldn't help it – it was just so funny and unusual to see her ex-husband incapacitated, especially with this particular illness.

A few moments later, the thermometer beeped. Elizabeta smiled and took it out, but the smile soon left her face when she saw the thermometer's reading. Her eyes went wide, and she gasped.

Roderich wiggled around a little bit before asking, "What's wrong? What's it say?" He rubbed the outside of his wrist **(you know, the part where the bone kind of sticks out, the side by the pinky finger)** against his blanket.

Elizabeta glared at Roderich until he stopped and then sighed. "Your temperature's really high. I really think you should stay in bed and rest until your fever's down a bit." Roderich opened up his mouth to protest. "Trust me – this is really for the best. You're almost to the point of delirium with a fever that high. Now, I'm going to put this washcloth" – here she grabbed the wet washcloth from the floor – "on your forehead, and you are going to take your ibuprofen and rest here until I say otherwise." She glared at him. "Got that?"

Roderich, his eyes wide, nodded silently.

Elizabeta smiled and kissed him on the forehead, which now had a couple of the blisters on it. "Good boy." She stooped down, picked up the washcloth, and laid it across Roderich's forehead. She grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen and poured out some onto a spoon. She pressed the spoon against Roderich's lips until he opened his mouth and then slipped it in. Roderich grimaced at the taste. "Aw, come on now, Roddy. It's not that bad – and it'll make you feel better."

Roderich sighed. "I know. I just feel kind of … useless like this."

Gilbert walked into the room, carrying a dinner tray. "Oh, yes, because you're always **so** useful when you're not sick." He smirked at the sick man.

Roderich glared at Gilbert. "Yes, unlike **some** people, I actually do something besides playing video games and drinking beer."

Gilbert actually growled at Roderich and lunged forward. Elizabeta pushed Gilbert away. "Stop that, both of you! Gilbert, if you're not going to be helpful, then you can just leave. Roderich, if you don't stop teasing Gilbert, both of us will leave, and you'll be stuck here all alone to wallow in your own itchy misery. Now, Gil, apologize to Roderich, and, Roderich, apologize to Gil."

Gilbert narrowed his eyes. "Sorry. **Roddy**." He emphasized Roderich's hated nickname.

Roderich fisted both his hands in his blanket and closed his eyes. "I … apologize, Gilbert. I should not have stooped down to your level."

Elizabeta smiled. "See? Now isn't that better?" She chose to ignore Roderich's last comment, because she really didn't want them to start fighting again. "Gil, did you find any calamine lotion?"

Gilbert shook his head. "Nope. He didn't have any in the medicine cabinet – the closest I could find was aloe vera. I suppose that wouldn't work?"

Elizabeta shook her head. "No, I really don't think it would. So … do you want to go to the store and get some, or should I? At least one of us needs to stay here with him… I think maybe you should go. I don't really trust the two of you alone together. You can't go two minutes in the same room without yelling at each other."

Roderich scratched at his collarbone. "Please just get me something to stop this infernal **itching**," he said with just a hint of a whine.

Elizabeta grabbed Roderich's wrist. "Honey, what did we tell you? No scratching!" She suddenly had an idea and motioned Gilbert closer. She whispered in his ear, and he pulled back, smirking at Roderich, before walking back out of the room.

Roderich looked nervous. He scratched at his nose. "What are you two plotting…?"

Elizabeta turned back to her former husband and smiled. "Oh, nothing, sweetie. Gilbert's just gone to get something to help you stop scratching. And he's going to call Yao. He's the eldest of all the nations, so he should be able to help us figure out what else we can do to help you feel better. I don't suppose you have any oatmeal, do you?"

Roderich wrinkled his nose. "Of course not. I hate that … that **thing** that dares to call itself a breakfast food, most passionately."

Elizabeta giggled. "Of course you do, sweetie." She patted him on the hand in a patronizing way.

At that moment, Gilbert chose to return to the Austrian's bedroom. He was holding something behind his back and smirking at Roderich.

Roderich looked warily at the albino Prussian. "Elizabeta, why is he looking at me like that…?"

Elizabeta smiled and said, "He's brought you something to help you stop scratching." She grabbed his wrist again, as it had once again reached up to scratch at his chest. Gilbert walked over to her and held out one of the items he had brought with him, and she put it on his hand.

Roderich looked down at his hand, which was now covered with … a pink quilted oven mitt, which he'd probably owned since his marriage to Elizabeta. He blushed. "You're seriously going to make me wear these things?"

Elizabeta nodded. "Yes. At least until we can get some calamine lotion or something. You haven't stopped scratching since you realized you were covered in spots, and it's just gonna get worse from here."

Roderich sighed. "Fine. Just … let me finish my tea before you put on the other one."

Elizabeta smiled. "Of course, sweetie. Gil made you some chicken soup, too."

**And … end of Chapter 2. Yeah, I know. I'm a horrible person. I was planning on finishing this sooner, but I had minor writer's block. Don't you just hate when that happens? That's why the chapter ends the way it does.**


	3. Gil Is Sick, Too

**Ack. Sorry for the super-long wait… I was fully intending to update during my February break last week, but I did not anticipate catching a horrible cold (seriously, half my school's had it by now…). Normally this would not stop me from writing (in fact, it probably would have inspired me), but the thing is, I couldn't actually breathe (at all through my nose, and sometimes through my mouth because I kept coughing), so that sort of put a damper on the whole writing thing. Anywho, I'm better now, so here's a new chappie for you guys!**

** Warning: The swearing is turned up a bit in this chapter. But you guys probably had already guessed that would be happening at some point – after all, Prussia's in this story.**

Gilbert walked through the aisles of the store he was in **(think like Walmart or K-Mart – I'm not sure if they have stores like that in Austria, but it's supposed to be like one of those)**, grabbing the things he needed and adding them to his shopping cart. Every so often, he would stop for a moment and scratch an itch – every time it was in a different place, and it was really starting to annoy him.

After about half an hour, he had gathered all the things he'd needed and headed for checkout. The cashier nodded in a friendly way, said the normal pleasantries, and started to scan the items – a pack of thermometer strips **(y'know, the forehead ones)**, a couple of boxes of oatmeal, a huge bottle of calamine lotion, and some Tylenol. The cashier raised an eyebrow. "Your kid have the chickenpox?"

Gilbert shook his head, grimacing internally at the thought. "Nah. It's for … I guess you'd say it's for a friend." He absentmindedly scratched at his chest.

The cashier smiled slightly. "Looks like your friend's not the only one." Gilbert tilted his head to the side in confusion, so the cashier touched the back of Gilbert's hand, which had a few blisters.

Gilbert stared at his hand for a couple seconds, then muttered, "You've gotta be fucking kidding me." He quickly paid for his purchases, then ran out of the store. He was back at Roderich's house in record time, and was running up the stairs at the same time Yao (he had been called to look at Roderich soon before Gilbert left to go get supplies) as going down them.

Yao turned around to look at Gilbert. "Is everything alright, aru?"

Gilbert coughed slightly and muttered, "Yeah," before continuing up the stairs, slightly more slowly than before.

Elizabeta looked up from her spot on the edge of Roderich's bed as Gilbert walked into the room, his hood on his jacket pulled up over his head and his hands hidden in his slightly-too-long sleeves. She couldn't really see any of his skin, but she didn't really question it – he'd always been rather weird. "Did you get everything?"

Gilbert nodded silently and held out the shopping bag. Unfortunately, that slight motion was just enough to make the sleeve move a little bit further up his arm, exposing his hand. He tried to move it back into his sleeve inconspicuously, but Elizabeta still saw it.

Elizabeta gasped and stood up, Roderich looking on in interest while continuing to scratch. "Gil, I thought you said you'd already had chickenpox!" She grabbed Gilbert's hand and touched the blisters on the back of it. She also pushed his hood back and off his head. She gasped again – his face had started breaking out on the ride over.

Gilbert blushed. "I thought I had already had them, too. I remember it – being stuck in bed for a week or two, itching like crazy, having a fever."

Elizabeta tilted her head to the side, thinking for a moment. "Wait – I think I remember that. Wasn't that right after you, Francis, and 'Tonio decided it was a great idea to roll down a hill naked? You tried to make me do it, too, but I just sort of watched. We didn't find out 'til later, but the bottom of the hill was covered in poison ivy."

Gilbert groaned. "But then what about that fever I had?"

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "You had a cold before you did that, and you made it worse by staying outside until almost the middle of the night. Remember? You stayed out even after the rest of us had gone home."

Gilbert chuckled sheepishly. "Oh, yeah, I forgot about that." Then he groaned again. "So now that pansy" – here Roderich protested, but Gilbert didn't actually pay attention to him – "got me sick with his stupid pansy disease?"

Elizabeta frowned. "Well, clearly, it's not some 'stupid pansy disease', if you managed to catch it."

Gilbert sighed. "I guess so."

Elizabeta grew concerned. "You're never this complacent." She felt Gilbert's forehead with the back of her hand. "You feel warm. You should go rest. You're not that itchy yet, are you?" In response, Gilbert's hand subconsciously reached up to scratch at the side of his neck, where a new patch of blisters had begun to appear. Elizabeta sighed. "I'll take that as a 'yes, I am'. I'll give you the calamine lotion once I've done up Roderich here."

Gilbert frowned. "Why can't you just give it to me **now** instead of when he's done with it? Knowing him, he'll use it all up and not leave any for me!"

Roderich glared at Gilbert. "I will not! I'll only use what I absolutely need. Besides, you're more likely to use it all up so **I **won't have any."

Elizabeta sighed. "Stop fighting, you two. Gilbert, you'll get it when Roderich is done with it, and not a moment sooner. He's been suffering much longer than you have – you were perfectly fine when you left the house, and Roderich's been sick for hours." She gently pushed Gilbert out of the room. "Your room is the one two doors down; mine is the one in the middle. Can you make it on your own?" She looked at Gilbert in concern, but Gilbert just walked away. "Okay, then. I'll be there in a few minutes." She watched Gilbert nod before returning to Roderich's room. She took the bottle of calamine lotion out of the shopping bag that Gilbert had left and opened it. "Okay, Roderich, let's get you lotioned up." She walked back over to Roderich's bed.

**I would just like to apologize for this chapter… but I honestly believe it was completely necessary in order for the story to continue moving on according to the plan I have of it in my mind. I also realize it's short, but I feel like that was a good place to end this particular chapter. I will update as soon as I can, but hopefully I'll update one of my other stories soon, too. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed!**

** And you'll never guess where I was accepted (and will be going in the fall) for college! I was accepted into Roger Williams University, and that is definitely where I'm going. I've been accepted into a couple of other places, but this was my #1 choice. I'm getting really excited!**


	4. Matthew to the Rescue

**I am so, so sorry that it's been way more than a year since I last updated. I was just super-busy. I am now a college sophomore, and I kind of sort of forgot about this story… Also, if you were reading "Haruhi Fujioka and the House of Night", I highly suggest re-reading it, as I "updated" the first chapter a few months ago so it now makes logical sense.**

The moment that Gilbert was out of Elizabeta's line of sight, he started scratching again. Apparently Lizzie's hearing was better than he thought, because a moment later she came out from Roderich's room and glared at him. "You know you'll scar if you keep scratching. Don't make me tape mittens to your hands…"

Gilbert stuck his tongue out at her. "So what if I have a few more scars? It'll just add to the collection."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes and walked back into Roderich's room.

Turning back towards the room he would be staying in, he pulled out his phone and walked over to the bed. He pulled back the blankets and sat down, then lifted his legs up onto the bed, under the blankets. Comfortably settled in, he texted his boyfriend, Matthew. **Hey, Birdie. Come over to Roddy's house asap.**

Less than a minute later, Matthew replied. **I am not helping you prank Roderich. You know Elizabeta will kill you if you hurt him.**

Gilbert rolled his eyes. **What kind of person do you take me for? Roderich and I are sick, and Lizzie's taking care of us.**

Matthew replied immediately. **B there soon; don't cause chaos.**

Gilbert smiled and put down his phone on the nightstand. He scratched lazily at his chest and tried to fall asleep. He probably would have succeeded, if not for all the itching.

Gilbert had just managed to doze off when Elizabeta came into the room with the calamine lotion. He lazily opened one eye as she entered the room and said, "Okay, please take off your shirt so we can get this over with."

Gilbert reached out for the bottle. "I can do it myself, you know…"

Elizabeta shook her head. "You can't do your back on your own. You can do the rest if you want, but you need to let me do your back."

Gilbert had been trying to sit up, but at this he fell back onto the pillow. "But Mattie will be here soon; he said he'd be here to take care of me." He coughed, a short, dry cough that hurt his throat. Of course, this made him cough again, and after about five or six coughs his throat felt like there was acid building up inside. He leaned over the trashcan that hadn't been by the bed a moment ago and gagged. He looked up at Lizzie, blushing. "Sorry about that."

Elizabeta sighed and sat next to Gilbert, rubbing his back and trying not to irritate the spots further. "See? This is why you need to relax and not argue. You know that when you get sick, especially if you have a fever – " here she put the back of her hand on his forehead – "which you do, you almost always throw up."

Gilbert sighed. "Fine." He pulled off the sweatshirt, then the black T-shirt he was wearing underneath. Then he turned away from Lizzie so she could reach his back more easily. When the cream first touched his back, he flinched and yelped. Lizzie laughed. "Roderich had the same reaction. I should have warned you – it's really cold at first, but it warms up as it adjusts to your body temperature."

Gilbert bit the inside of his lip and kept silent. As more and more of his back got covered, he bit his lip harder and harder until he could taste blood, but he still didn't say anything. He would be damned if he allowed himself to show the same reaction as Roderich, on anything.

Once Lizzie had finished with his back and shoulders, she moved to sit in front of him again. At his questioning look, she shrugged her shoulders and said, "It's easier for me to do your face, too, since you can't see it and will probably miss a few spots." Proving her point, she dabbed a bit of the lotion on his nose, where he hadn't even realized he had any spots.

Elizabeta was soon done with his face, and then she pulled the thermometer from her pocket. "I think it would be a good idea to keep track of your temperature. I'm not going to ask Yao to come over again, but he told me to do the same things for you as I'm doing for Roderich. Now, under your tongue, please."

Gilbert took the thermometer from her and settled it under his tongue. The lotion really was helping; he didn't really feel much of a desire to scratch, though that may have been because Lizzie was right in front of him and would yell at him for scratching since he didn't actually have any lotion on the front half of his body. Eventually, the thermometer beeped, and Lizzie took it back. She frowned and said, "Your fever's pretty high, Gil. I'll give you some ibuprofen, and you try to rest, okay?"

Gilbert nodded sleepily and barely even registered when Elizabeta came back, settled a cold washcloth on his forehead, brushed his hair back from his face, and left the medicine by the bed with a note for Matthew to tell him to give Gilbert the medicine when he woke up. Then she walked downstairs and wrote another note for Matthew, telling him that she had gone out to the store to get more supplies and would be back shortly in case he arrived before she came back.

Matthew had, by a stroke of luck, already been in Europe, visiting Francis, when he had received Gilbert's text. He had borrowed Francis' jet and had touched down in an Austrian airport less than two hours later **(Yes, I researched this. My Internet browser history now contains a MapQuest search from Paris to Vienna, as well as the speed a plane travels. Thank you, fanfiction.)**. He had taken a cab to Roderich's house, though there had been a mild language barrier as he attempted to remember the German Gilbert had taught him.

When he arrived, the door was locked, but Matthew vaguely remembered Gilbert telling him that the spare key was stored in a flowerpot by the front door. He found the key quickly and opened the door. In the front room, there was a note on the coffee table, so he read it, figuring it was for him. Apparently Elizabeta had gone shopping and would be back soon, so Matthew didn't worry about it too much.

Next to it was a list of instructions for what to do in her absence if either Gilbert or Roderich needed anything, and the note even said which room Gilbert was in. How … nice of her. Matthew knew that Elizabeta was rather obsessed with homosexual relationships, and that she knew that he and Gilbert were boyfriends, but it was possible that she was just trying to be nice and really had no ulterior motives… Oh, well, he didn't have time to dwell on it; Gilbert was upstairs, sick and alone.

Matthew took the stairs two at a time and jogged over to the doorway of the room Gilbert was staying in. Poor Gilbert looked rather horrible, Matthew thought. He had calamine lotion on his face, and his bare chest and stomach were covered in red spots. His cheeks were flushed with fever, and he looked pretty sweaty. Matthew walked into the room and took his boyfriend's hand, rubbing his thumb against the back of it. He whispered, "Gil, honey, wake up; I'm here."

Gilbert opened his eyes sleepily and smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Mattie."

**And I'm gonna end it here. Hope you enjoyed it. I promise it won't be all Matthew and Gilbert fluff, but I thought fluffy goodness would make up for my overly long absence. Hope you enjoyed!**


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